


nominae

by pressedpeachpits



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Daddy Kink, M/M, Teacher Louis, Teacher-Student Relationship, louis is a cute asshole, niall and harry are roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7783357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pressedpeachpits/pseuds/pressedpeachpits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is Harry's beautiful acting professor, and Harry is an awkward college freshman with a crush on said teacher. After a slip up with what name to call him, Harry finds himself in a world of embarrassment, obsession, and lots of support from his roommate Niall.</p><p>Or, the one in which Harry calls his teacher Daddy, but it isn't as bad as he expected</p>
            </blockquote>





	nominae

**Author's Note:**

> HAS NOT BEEN BETA'D YET  
> this fic took me... way too long to write. as in, i started it in march and just finished it yesterday. just a cute, funny idea that came to me when i almost called one of my professors daddy (thankfully i didn't). hope you enjoy!

Harry hadn’t meant to say it, the word just slipped out of his mouth. As he stared at Louis, his mouth wide, he tried to stutter out an apology, but instead the professor cleared his throat and repeated his question, this time to the other students, shifting uncomfortably in his squatted position next to the table.

Maybe some backstory is in order. Harry Styles had a bit of a crush on his acting teacher. On the first day of class Dr. Tomlinson walked into class and asked the class to call him by his first name, Louis, and Harry’s mind was immediately filled with fantasies in which the formal name was kept under silk sheets. If his cheerful smile and gorgeous hair wasn’t enough to release thousands of butterflies in Harry’s stomach, when he turned around his mouth became dry at the sight of that glorious, delicious ass (which was perfectly packaged in tight slacks).

As people around the room introduced themselves, Harry kept his eyes trained on Louis, gauging his reactions to everyone and trying to figure out the coolest way to introduce himself. However, when the spotlight was turned to him, he had to be nudged out of his trance by the girl in the seat next to him. He shook his head quickly and grinned, trying to let out something intelligible. He did not, however, succeed, but his odd response caused a small smile to play at Louis’ lips, and he felt proud.

Things were relatively the same for the next few months, Harry somehow kept his grade up even though the entirety of his attention was directed to the way Louis’ lips moved when he talked about the “as if” technique of acting. Louis always had a way of meeting Harry’s eyes and giving him a look that forced him to take a few slow breaths, but Harry always chocked it up to his imagination. Dr. Tomlinson was a professional, for goodness sake, and there was absolutely  _ no  _ double meaning in the way his fingers always brushed against Harry’s when he passed out papers or the way he slid his hands oh so softly across the back of his and whispered “good job” in his ear when he got a perfect score on his midterm. While that last encounter had caused Harry to rush back to his dorm and relieve himself in the privacy of his fantasies, nothing much really changed.

Nothing changed, that is, until the fated group project day. Harry sat at his table with several other people from his class surrounding him. They discussed their upcoming group paper and presentation, mulling over several subjects and ideas. Harry took notes and felt pleased with himself for doing actual work in class for once, but he couldn’t help the jealousy that pressed on his heart each time Louis talked and laughed with the other groups. He wanted to push his teacher against the wall and ravish him, to show everyone else who he belonged to; not that he truly belonged to him. The edge of last night’s dream kept pushing against his mind, which caused the crotch region of his pants to become uncomfortably tight. He could still feel Louis hand connecting with his bottom and hear his voice, low and sultry next to his ear, asking “please,  _ who _ ?”

Harry buried his head in his hands, willing the false memories away, when he heard the voice again, this time beside him and not as quiet, “Everything okay, Harry?”

He turned his attention to Louis, who was squatting down next to him with those delicious thick thighs begging to be released and, without meaning to, answered, “Just tired, Daddy.”

Harry stared into Louis’ eyes slack-jawed, a rough apology forming in his mind. Louis made an odd sound in the back of his throat and turned his attention to the other group members, asking how they were doing in a louder voice, to which they gave normal answers, none of which contained the word  _ Daddy _ . At this point Harry had two options, either leave and admit he did something wrong, or stay and pretend nothing had happened. He chose the latter, keeping his head down the rest of class and taking notes without adding to the conversation. He tried to focus on his breathing, keeping it slow and even, and removed his jacket because, suddenly, it was very hot in the classroom.

Part of Harry was hoping that Dr. Tomlinson (Harry felt he had lost the ability to call him by his first name now) would keep him after class, and ease his worried mind with flirtatious words and a hand smoothing down the side of his torso. That didn’t happen, but Harry was still the last in class; he forgot to pay attention to anything at all, and had missed the part when everyone else was packing up to leave. As he shoved the last of his notebook and pens in his bag, he looked up to Louis who was standing there like…  _ fuck _ , like a Greek god of sexuality. He wasn’t doing anything in particular, but the way his arms were crossed over his chest, with one leg lightly resting across the other and the slight tilt of his head as he chewed his bottom lip while looking right at Harry was the hottest thing he’d seen all year.

When Louis realized that he’d been caught staring at the odd student who had just 30 minutes earlier called him Daddy, he snapped his head up to count the ceiling tiles and gritted out, “See you Tuesday, Mr. Styles.”

“Oh, uh,” Harry could feel his cheeks heating up once more as he stood from his chair, “Yeah. See you then. Dr. Tomlinson.”

Harry was speed walking towards the door like he was in one of those weird races, but a sound caused him to turn back around. “You can just call me Louis, you know,” Louis chuckled out around his fist, trying to pretend his laughs were just coughs. But Harry could see the smirk, and it was all too much for him. He nodded his head and scrambled out of the classroom at full speed.

 

*

 

Harry spent the weekend miserable and holed up in his dorm room, no matter how hard his roommate, Niall, tried to cheer him up and get him to go to a frat party with him. He also refused to tell him what was wrong, but Niall, the most amazing friend in the world, decided to spend his weekend in the room as well. They ate Chinese takeout under Niall’s big fluffy comforter, watched music videos from their guilty pleasure boyband, and looked up their old crushes on Facebook to see how they were doing. Some were okay, others had kids, and then some had basically gone to another realm of attractive, and that just made Harry remember why they were there in the first place. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, pushing away yet another attempt from Niall to find out what was wrong.

“I just…” Harry began, not sure if he should say or not.

“Just  _ what _ ?” Niall asked, nearly begging to know in his frustration.

“I just really like someone,” he finally mumbled, “And there’s no chance, y’know?”

The laugh Niall emitted must have been heard across the entire campus, “You aren’t experiencing life because of a girl? Oh, come on, you could have anyone you want, I doubt it’s impossible.”

He sighed, “It’s not a girl, but he isn’t really a guy either… he’s so much better than a guy. He’s, like, older and more experienced, you know? And so, so gorgeous and  _ ugh _ ,” he snapped his head up and looked into his friend’s eyes, “Fuck this, you’re right. Let’s go experience life.”

Niall blinked while he tried to absorb all the information that had just been thrown at him. After a few moments he decided to supply the suggestion that, since it was almost 4 AM, they should go to bed and experience life the next day. Harry grudgingly agreed and after a few minutes of fighting whether they would cuddle in his bed or sleep separately, Niall turned off the lights and they were quickly enveloped in the land of dreams.

 

*

 

It was almost dinnertime on Monday and Harry had just woken up half an hour earlier to the realization that he had a half-written paper that was due the next day for none other than Dr. Tomlinson. Or Louis, whichever it was. He was, luckily, able to crank the rest out by the time dinner was done, but Fate has a funny way of doing things. Another hour passed by and Niall entered their room to the sight of Harry shouting obscenities (half of which Niall had never even heard before) at the printer, which was making a horrible clunking noise. There were pages strewn around on the floor with blots of ink and messed up margins, some were completely black and others were completely plain. It would have looked wonderful in a pretentious art gallery.

“Come on,” Niall said while placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder, “Let’s go to the library.”

Harry wasn't quick to give up, but he figured he had fought a good fight. He packed up his laptop and trudged to the library grudgingly with his friend in tow. After a few minutes of fighting with his laptop to actually connect to the school printer, he was finally able to create a physical copy of all his hard work. Once everything was neatly stapled together and the last anxiety-ridden breath of relief was released, Harry leaned his head on Niall’s shoulder and mumbled out the name of all his problems.

“What was that?” Niall asked.

“It’s Louis. Tomlinson.”

“Your acting teacher? Isn’t that like… against the rules?”

Harry closed his eyes and spun around in the computer chair, basking in the emptiness of the library for once. “I called him Daddy the other day, and now things are awkward, but I think I might actually like him.” he snapped back around when he heard chuckling beside him.

“You called him  _ Daddy _ ?” Niall coughed (choked) out between laughs.

“Not on  _ purpose _ ! I was just thinking about a dream I’d had and, shit, I’ve got it bad. Let’s go back.”

Finally, the two turned around to head back to their room, but just like something out of an 80’s teenage romantic comedy, there he was, rested against the side of a bookcase with a small smirk on his lips. Harry let out a choking noise and proceeded to gurgle on something in the back of his throat, prompting Niall to pound his back and give Louis a sheepish smile.

“I, er, Louis! Dr. Tomlinson? Louis. Uh,” Harry continued the word vomit, unable to stop himself, “How are you… doing tonight? How long were you, uh, there?”

Louis chuckled and simply said, “I can’t wait to read your paper tomorrow, Harry,” before pushing himself from the bookshelf and leaving the duo dumbfounded.

 

*

 

Harry shoved his face into his pillow and let out a loud groan, “I can’t go.”

Niall, always supportive, rubbed his back, “You’ve  _ got  _ to, mate. Isn’t this paper half of your final grade or something?”

“A third. A third isn’t that much, right? It’s less than a half.” Harry sighed and rolled over onto his back, “Do you think he heard?”

“Go, okay? You need to pass it in. He would have said something.”

After some grumbling and promises of bowling in the future, Harry finally agreed, and set off to class 10 minutes early.

 

*

 

Harry could see him, beautiful Dr. Tomlinson, sitting at his desk. A few early students were scattered throughout the eoom, and he could see a small pile of papers already stacking up next to Louis’ laptop. Harry gave himself a mini pep talk and strode to his teacher’s desk, ready to prove that he wasn’t some kind of weird horndog that had a daddy kink, and that he was just as intellectually capable as any other student in the class. He placed his work on top of the pile and began to turn around to leave, but was interrupted by the clearing of a throat.

“Mr. Styles,” Louis started, “May I have your phone?”

Harry snapped around, confusing quickly adorning his face, “My phone?”

“Yes, you always seem so distracted in my class, and you know I don’t allow phones. I promise I’ll give it back,” and he could have sworn he saw a slight wink from Louis.

“I  _ am  _ a, uh, y’know, adult. Can’t I just turn it off and keep it in my bag?”

“Would you rather leave my class?”

Harry was shellshocked, but instead of protesting he took a deep breath and pulled his phone out of his pocket and placed it on top of his composition and sulkily found a seat near the back at an empty table. He spent the entire class occupied with his thoughts; what the hell was going on? Had Louis heard what he said last night? Was he even  _ allowed  _ to take his phone away in college? With so many thoughts, Harry was unable to concentrate on the lesson, as usual. He doodled and felt for his phone regularly, thinking he felt it vibrating against his thigh several times. Finally, the class was over and he was able to leave; he marched up to Louis’ desk and held his hand out expectantly. Louis looked up with a curious expression on his face, as if he had no idea why Harry was there.

“I believe you have something of mine,” Harry got out through gritted teeth, growing increasingly annoyed with each second that passed by.

Louis looked around the room and watched the last students exit. He pulled the phone out of his desk drawer and tapped the screen with a small smile, “You know, it’s quite unusual to find a phone without a passcode.”

“Er… what?”

“I put one on for you, it isn’t very smart not to have one. 1224.”

Harry snatched his phone back and scowled, “Why were you messing with my phone?” he hissed.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” the question caught Harry off guard and he felt his stomach plummet.

“On a, like a, date? A date with you?”

Louis grinned, “A date with me. My number is in your phone, I’ll text you tonight,” and then waved him off as a group of people filed back into the room for his next class.

 

*

 

Later that night Harry had just pulled on some boxers and spun his freshly washed hair up into a towel when Niall chucked his phone across the room onto his bed and asked, “Why do you have a text from someone named  _ Daddy _ ?”


End file.
